


No Help Required

by Atisenia



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bilbo Remains In Erebor, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Don't copy to another site, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Matchmaking, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-10 04:30:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17419154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atisenia/pseuds/Atisenia
Summary: Bilbo and Thorin are trapped together again. Alone. There might be a pattern here.





	No Help Required

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to be a good hobbit this year, so I'm bringing you gifts on my birthday. Well, gift. It's short and rather silly, but I still hope you'll enjoy it.;)

Bilbo is leaning on the wall of a tiny chamber behind the armoury when the reality of the situation dawns on him.

“Huh,” he says.

Thorin’s wandering hands still on Bilbo’s hips and he stops nuzzling Bilbo’s neck.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, frowning.

“Nothing.” Bilbo reaches up and strokes the crease between Thorin’s brows with his thumb. When it deepens instead of disappearing, he leans in and presses a kiss to it. “It’s just. Well. This might be the fifth time we’re trapped together under mysterious circumstances this month alone...”

“Are you complaining?” Thorin raises an eyebrow at him.

Bilbo’s lips twitch before he lets them quirk into a cheeky smile. His hands move from Thorin’s shoulders to his neck and pull, bringing him even closer.

“You tell me,” he says and kisses him. Thorin smiles against Bilbo’s lips, more than happy to oblige.

For the first time in weeks, they don’t have to rush anywhere to prevent some new crisis that the rebuilding of Erebor reveals on a daily basis. Even if they tried, they wouldn’t be able to. The door to the small chamber closed behind them as soon as they entered it and it refused to open again. It might take hours before anyone realizes they’re missing, and even more until—

“Wait, wait, Thorin.” Bilbo gently pushes Thorin away and looks at him sternly. He wavers at the sight of him: eyes hooded, lips swollen, hair messy and tangled. Bilbo stares at him, then remembers himself and shakes his head to clear it. “We need to... to talk about this,” he croaks, then clears his throat and nods to himself. “Yes. Yes, I think—”

Thorin groans.

“We’ve already talked about this, Hobbit,” he says, tugging at Bilbo’s shirt with a meaningful look. “We agreed...”

“Not— not about— Would you stop that for a moment?” Thorin pulls his hands away at once. “I really don’t think it’s a coincidence that this... situation keeps on happening.”

Thorin’s lips purse and he looks at Bilbo for a long moment.

“You’re serious about this?” he asks.

Bilbo nods. He leans in when Thorin brings their foreheads together, and closes his eyes. They stay like this until Thorin breaks away and leans back on the opposite wall. Bilbo wraps his arms around himself, already missing Thorin’s warmth.

“What is happening, Bilbo?” Thorin asks. The crease between his eyebrows reappears. “Does someone wish us harm?”

“I... no. I don’t think so.” Bilbo clears his throat and shifts from foot to foot. “I—ah. Actually, I think they might be trying to... help.”

Thorin blinks at him.

“Help?” he echoes.

“Well.” Bilbo wrings his hands, then hides them behind his back when Thorin’s eyes focus on them. He clears his throat again. “Well. I think the Company is behind all this.”

“Why would they...?” Thorin trails off and simply stares at Bilbo for a long while, uncertain. “A dwarf almost died when that mine collapsed.”

“I know.”

“And we lost priceless volumes in the library flood.”

“Yes, poor Ori was heartbroken for weeks.”

“And you twisted your ankle when we fell down the Ravenhill tunnels.”

“I know, I was there,” Bilbo mutters. There’s a knot in his stomach that sucks all the air from his body. Something must show on his face, because Thorin’s features soften and he steps towards him.

“Does it still hurt? Do you want to sit down?” He gestures at a wide stone bench in the corner.

Bilbo shakes his head. “It’s fine.” He almost wishes the blasted ankle would hurt again, if only to distract him from the phantom pain on the back of his head and the memory of ice creeping into his veins as blood drained from Thorin’s. “Could you...” he starts, then takes a shaky breath.

It’s all Thorin needs. He closes the distance between them without hesitation and pulls Bilbo into his arms. He’s warm and whole, and _alive_. Bilbo buries his face in Thorin’s chest and breathes a little easier.

“So why do you think our friends are trying to kill us?” Thorin asks.

Bilbo snorts. He pulls away from Thorin and rolls his eyes at him, but squeezes his hand at the same time to show he’s grateful for the distraction.

“Goodness, Thorin, I don’t,” he says and pushes his hair away from his face. It’s grown past what even the most unruly hobbits would consider a respectable length. Whenever Bilbo mentions trimming it to the dwarves, however, every pair of scissors in the mountain seems to mysteriously disappear. He’s mostly doing it for his own amusement now, and perhaps Thorin’s too, as he’s not planning on actually cutting it anytime soon.

“What is it they want then?” Thorin gently combs away the rebellious strands of Bilbo’s hair, then gathers them together and starts braiding. It’s a shame the braid will have to come apart before they leave.

“I think—” Thorin’s fingers brush against the tip of Bilbo’s ear, making him shiver. “They might want us to start a courtship.”

“We’re already courting.” Thorin tugs pointedly on the braid and secures it with a bead that belonged to his mother.

“Yes, but they don’t know that,” Bilbo says and pokes Thorin in the side. “That’s why they’re being silly. We’re probably ruining their betting pool.”

Thorin pulls away slightly to look Bilbo in the eye.

“I know we agreed not to tell anyone yet,” he says cautiously, making Bilbo frown. “But if you’d rather...”

“Of course I would rather tell people, Thorin!” Thorin’s face falls, but before he can do something silly, Bilbo continues, “I can also see why that’s not such a good idea right now.” Thorin might be the king, but the mountain is still full of Dáin’s people. And while Dáin himself publicly supports Thorin’s claim to the throne, some consider Thorin unfit to rule. Him courting a hobbit — an outsider — would hardly improve the situation. “I can wait a little longer.”

Thorin considers him for a moment, then brings their foreheads together.

“I would have married you that day on the battlefield, if you had only wished it.”

“Well.” Bilbo closes his eyes. He can picture it easily: both of them battered and aching, too weak to braid hair or make flower crowns, but determined enough to finally declare their love. It’s not so very different from what actually happened. “Well.” There’s a lump in his throat now, which will simply not do. He swallows, then mock-glares at Thorin. “You would deny me a wedding feast?”

Thorin chuckles and shakes his head with a fond smile.

“I wouldn’t dare,” he says and earns himself a real glare. “When things settle, when Dís gets here with our people—”

“I know.” Bilbo smiles at him. “We might want to tell the Company though, or they will just keep locking us together.”

“Hmm... can’t we let them?” Thorin asks. Bilbo’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Think about it.” Thorin kisses his temple. “They need to take over our duties when we’re gone.” He reaches for Bilbo’s hand and tugs him gently towards the bench. “And we get to spend some time together.” Thorin sits on the bench and pulls Bilbo onto his lap. “Alone,” he murmurs in Bilbo’s ear.

“It seems wrong to use them like that,” Bilbo protests, but it’s half-hearted at best. Thorin’s hands are low on his hips and he’s much more invested in that.

Thorin leaves a trail of kisses down Bilbo’s neck.

“You said they wanted to help.” He moves his hands to the top of Bilbo’s shirt and, after a nod from Bilbo, starts unbuttoning it.

“That’s true.” Bilbo shakes off his jacket, then helps Thorin lose his tunic. “And they should mind their own business anyway,” he says and kisses Thorin on the mouth.

Thorin hums and deepens the kiss. He pulls Bilbo even closer, then runs his hands up and down Bilbo’s thighs, chasing away all of Bilbo’s thoughts.

Almost all.

“The thing is though,” he says, breaking the kiss. Thorin groans and leans his head on Bilbo’s chest. “They did almost kill a dwarf.”

“And you’re killing me here,” Thorin mutters.

“What if they get desperate? I don’t really fancy another twisted ankle, thank you very much!”

Bilbo scoots back on Thorin’s lap and crosses his arms. Thorin sighs.

“We know what they’re doing now. We’ll stop them before they go too far. Now _come back here_.”

Bilbo’s nose twitches and his resolve crumbles. Well. Maybe they can talk about it later. Much, _much_ later, judging by the look Thorin’s giving him. They should still have time to spare.

He raises an eyebrow at Thorin and rolls his hips.


End file.
